


Broken Pieces

by SilverMoon53



Series: Silver's Summer '18 Fic-a-thon [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Daisy is usually a good friend but she screws up sometimes, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jemma Simmons Has PTSD, Post Maveth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So much angst, and before they go back there, because I love making Simmons suffer, idk screw the timeline i needed to write some angst, not sure exactly where this fits in the actual timeline of the show, poor girl has been through so much, sometime after Simmons gets back from Maveth, they have a massive fight I'm really proud of it actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoon53/pseuds/SilverMoon53
Summary: Simmons is back on Earth, safe, alive, and in one piece.Physically, at least. Inside, she's not sure she'll ever be whole again.





	Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Remember last week? When I posted a really cute and fluffy AOS fic? Yeah, this is nothing like that. Buckle up because these kids are broken and I hold nothing back.

Daisy found her, sitting in her room. Simmons was staring out her window, the sun bright enough that she could feel it burning her eyes but she was scared that if she looked away, even for a second, that it would set for another 18 years.

Daisy approached her slowly, footsteps soft and quiet but echoing thunder to Simmons. The bed creaked under her added weight, and Simmons risked flicking her eyes to the side in acknowledgement. 

“Hey,” Daisy’s voice was soft, pressing, and Simmons’s eyes darted back to the sun. “Fitz is looking for you.”

“I’m in my room,” Simmons replied evenly. “I can’t be that hard to find.” Her voice held a dark undertone, the unspoken _unlike last time_ weighing heavily in the air. 

“He thinks you’re avoiding him,” Daisy said after a few moments. 

“No. I’m just enjoying the sun.” 

“He thinks you’re mad at him.” 

Simmons sighed, not liking where the conversation was going. “Then why doesn’t he come talk to me himself? Why send a messenger?”

“He didn’t. I’m here because I’m worried about you. And him.” 

“Why are you worried about Fitz?” Simmons asked, finally dragging her eyes fully away from the burning sun. Daisy shook her head.

“He seems lost. He spent the last six months looking for you, but now you’re here and it seems like you’re doing everything you can to stay away from him. He’s breaking without you.” 

“Right,” Simmons scoffed. She turned back to the window, back to the sun she missed so much. “ _He’s_ breaking.”

“He is.” Daisy’s voice was loud, hints of anger at the edge and Simmons snapped her head back to stare. “He put everything he had and then some into finding you, and you’re avoiding him.” Simmons drew back at the volume, then turned and got off the bed. 

“I’m not,” she said curtly, walking over to stand in front of the window. The sky was mostly clear, a few puffy white clouds floating lazily across and Simmons watched them anxiously, terrified they would take the sun away from her. Daisy sighed, irritable. 

“Would you talk to me? Please? Or talk to him, let him know what’s going on. He missed you so much, we all did. But he never stopped looking. You can’t imagine how hard it was for him, holding onto hope longer than any of us, never stopping looking for you.”

Simmons spun around at that, eyes burning from more than just the sun’s light. Then she withdrew into herself again and spoke steadily. “Is that so? It must have been hard for him, trying to find me as though I were a lost pet. You’re right, I can’t imagine.” Her voice was cold, though inside she was hurting. She had spent so long being scared and sad and hopeless, it was easier to keep all that inside. The pressure within her built up and she knew it would not hold forever, but it was easier than letting it out. 

Daisy recoiled at the aloofness in her voice, and maybe she was holding too much inside as well because her next words were loud and angry. 

"You weren't here,” she snapped. “You have no idea how bad it was! You didn't see him tearing the world apart trying to find you! Tearing _himself_ apart, as if killing himself would somehow bring you back. You weren't there, trying to keep him together but unable to, watching helplessly as he ran around to the edges of the earth, delving into the darkest pits he could find, desperate for a single clue. You have _no idea_ what it was like." Daisy glared daggers at Simmons, expression resentful and angry and remorseful, as though she hated that they were fighting but couldn’t bring herself to stop. 

Simmons had flinched back at Daisy's barrage of harsh words and accusations, but straightened herself out now. She gave herself a moment to collect her thoughts, letting Daisy’s anger wash over her. Her own face was blank, impassive, and she herself felt distant and detached, as though some part of her was still on that damned planet.

It was a moment when, had her life been a book, the narrator would say that something inside of her snapped. But her life wasn’t a book, and anything whole enough within her to break had long since been shattered beyond repair. 

Instead, that something _shifted_ , broken pieces piling together to form a wall and Simmons's eyes narrowed, harsh despite the tears shining in them. When she spoke, her voice was as cold and even and immovable as a glacier.

"You're right," Simmons said, feeling bitter satisfaction as Daisy shivered at the calm iciness of her words. "I don't know. I _wasn't_ here. I was _there_ , on a distant planet, alone. For six months. _Six. Months_ , Daisy, when I didn't know where I was, what I could eat and what might kill me as soon as I tried, whether or not there were illnesses in the air that could kill me, or if some predator was out there lurking in the shadows. Six months of itchy, infected wounds, because I had to cover anything that might bleed with mud to keep _It_ from finding me, Six months of not knowing if I would live to see another day." She paused, her chest quavering as she fought and failed to keep her voice steady. Daisy opened her mouth to say something, but Simmons cut her off.

"Do you know how many times I saw the sun in those six months?" Simmons continued, her wavering voice and cascading tears betraying the turmoil inside. The wall was crumbling already, built from parts too damaged to last. "Do you, Daisy? I'll tell you. Zero. Not one single time, in six months. Not once." Her voice cracked painfully on the last word, and she gasped out a sob. She took another moment, gave herself some time to rebuild the wall. She stopped crying, held the tears in and used them to cement cracks as they formed. Her voice hardened again, sharpened by an edge that cut deeper than any blade. "So, no. I _don't_ know how hard it was for you, where your biggest threat was a bullet you could easily blast away or heal from. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been, being able to bask in the sun and sleep in a warm bed, always sure where your next meal would come from. Please, tell me how hard it was for you, surrounded by friends and people who cared about you. Please, do tell. I'm _dying_ to know."

Daisy said nothing. She didn’t even open her mouth to try to. She just stared, silent, expression unreadable, as though waiting for Simmons to make the next move.

After a few moments, all of the anger fell away from Simmons, taking the fiery energy with it and leaving her feeling so very small and empty. "That's what I thought," she tried to spit the words, but it came out as more of a whimper. Without another word, she turned and walked away, somehow feeling more alone than she had the whole time she had been lost.

***

Simmons had nowhere to go. 

Usually, when upset, she would retreat into the lab, bury herself in whatever project she was in the middle of, and there always was something to work on. Failing that, she would turn to the gym, and let the physical exertion ease her rampant thoughts.

Neither was an option for her anymore. Both would be full of too many people, too many sounds and bright lights and smells. 

Her lack of destination didn’t seem to dissuade her feet from carrying her rapidly away. She walked swiftly, taking turns at random and backtracking any time she heard any sign of other people. Her thoughts pressed aggressively against her mind and Simmons tried to keep them out, terrified of where they would lead her. 

Faster and faster she walked, legs slowly picking up the pace, faster, faster, until she was running, all out, flat-footed, breath shallow and panicked, running, running, running, as though she could outrun her thoughts, outrun the harsh words both she and Daisy had said, outrun _It_ , because surely, surely _It_ was following her, _It_ was always following her, no escape, quickly, quick, did she have any open wounds, she must, _It_ was following her, so she must be bleeding, must be leaving a trail for _It_ to follow but no, no, she couldn’t find any source of blood, couldn’t feel the sting of broken flesh but she was running too hard to stop, couldn’t risk stopping to check, and some distant, distant, almost forgotten part of her mind was screaming, yelling, telling her to _calm down,_ It _is not here, you’re home, on Earth, you’re safe,_ It _can’t get you anymore, stop, please,_ but she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t risk it, no matter how much she ached for that part to be right, because if she stopped, then _It_ will get her and death would be far more merciful and so she keeps running.

Simmons found herself again, slowly, broken pieces coming back together to form something too broken to be human, too whole to be anything but. The darkness surrounding her was due to the lights being off, not because there was no sun. The silence suffocating her was due to how far from the centre of the base she was, not because there was nothing alive to make noise. The hurt in her chest was due to her panicked run, not because the oxygen levels were different. 

She forced herself to breathe, deep and slow and steady, gradually slowing her pounding heart. As she did, the world came back to her, too. The darkness was not complete, eased by the soft light that seeped under the closed door. With those lights, noise came too, the harsh drone of florrecents a soothing pain in her ears. Soon, though soon was a relative term that had long since lost meaning to her, Simmons became aware enough of herself and her surrounds to piece together where she was. 

The quiet around her suggested that she was at the base’s outskirts, far enough away that it was unlikely some would stumble upon her hiding place. It made sense, that her panicked mind would take her away from any signs of life, still trapped on that planet as it was. Her back was pressed heavily against the wall facing the door, and the proximity between the two suggested that she was in a closet of sorts. The scalpel in her hands, metal already warmed by her trembling hands, suggested that she was in a storage closet, probably spare tools for the lab or med wing. 

Evidence gathered, theory confirmed. Simmons took comfort in the logic, in the proof that she was back on Earth, that she was safe. For a second, her thoughts tried to take her back to why the panic had started, to find the root cause of the problem and eliminate it, but she stamped down. The fear and her mad sprint, neither of which she knew how long had lasted, followed by the relief of being back on Earth, had left her exhausted. She knew enough about psychology to know that avoiding thinking about the problem would cause more trouble in the long run, but she was tired and safe and warm and safe and in a dark room and _safe_ , so she leaned her head back against the wall and fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

Simmons woke sometime later, stiff and sore from the unusual position. The dull ache was comforting, familiar, and she was slightly thankful that it only faded slightly when she stretched. 

The scalpel had fallen from her hand sometime during her rest, long enough ago that the metal had cooled. Simmons considered it for a moment, then decided to put it back on the shelf where it belonged. She had no need for a knife, safe at the base. The urge to keep a weapon was still strong, but growing weaker as she grew accustomed to being back on Earth. 

She stood slowly, fighting the dizziness brought on by fatigue and months of poor nutrition. Thirst scratched the back of her throat and she swallowed thickly, but otherwise ignored it. After going 100 hours without a single sip, a few hours was nothing. 

Once steady, Simmons turned to face the door and grimaced. She needed to find Daisy and talk to her, to say… something. Apologize, maybe. They had both said harsh, cruel words to the other, and her heart ached at the thought of being angry with a friend. 

All that didn’t mean she wasn’t dreading the confrontation, though, and it took a great effort for her to actually reach out and open the door.

The bright, artificial light hit her like a punch and she flinched back, arm flying up to block it out. The buzzing drone of the lights was louder, too, no longer muffled by the door. Simmons felt her heart beat faster, her breathing shallow out, and shut her eyes. It took a few long seconds of conscious effort, but she managed to fend off the panic and overstimulation. 

When she opened her eyes again, Daisy was in front of her, looking concerned and uncertain. Simmons started, having thought she was alone, and Daisy swore under her breath. 

“Sorry!” Daisy said softly, hands out as though she wanted to wrap Simmons in a hug but was afraid of scaring her again. “Sorry, I- I’m sorry,” she added feebly, looking very much like there was more she wanted to say. 

“It’s okay,” Simmons told her once she had calmed down again. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, you just startled me a bit is all.” Her tone was light, forced, part of her hoping that they could just ignore their last conversation and pretend it never happened. The awkward tension in the air told her that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, but Simmons had always been able to hold onto hope. 

“I uh, I brought you some food,” Daisy gestured vaguely to the floor next to her. “Water, too,” she added as Simmons followed her gaze to the granola bars and bottled water. 

“Thank you,” Simmons said simply, walking the two steps across the hall and sinking down against the wall. She willed her hands to stop trembling as she grabbed one of the bottles and opened it, but they didn’t listen. She frowned at them, watching the clear water shaking against the equally clear plastic. Daisy shifted in her peripheral vision, tensely walking over to sit against the same wall, a few steps away. 

Simmons watched her from the corner of her eye, wordlessly, still waiting for her hands steady, waiting to reaccustom herself to Earth, waiting for Daisy to break the silence. 

“I figured you’d be hungry when you woke,” Daisy finally said. “So I got you something. I didn’t want to wake you, or scare you when you woke up, so I waited out here.” She let out a short, bitter chuckle. “Didn’t work so well.”

Simmons felt her lips twitch into a not-quite smile. “No, I suppose it didn’t,” she agreed evenly. Her hands still shook but she raised the bottle to her lips anyway. She could taste the plastic, taste the chlorine and all the other chemicals in the water, and pushed back the memory of bitter, stagnant water. “How long was I out?” she asked after a few sips, tone still light and conversational, forced and fake. 

“A few hours?” Daisy said uncertainly. “Long enough for me to blow off some steam in the gym, and start to wonder where you were. Took me a while to find you, by the time I did you were out cold. I didn’t want to wake you, since you always look so tired, but I didn’t want you to be hungry, so I was just going to leave you something to eat.” She hesitated, facing Simmons and arms twitching in her direction. “Then I didn’t want to leave you alone,” she finished quietly. 

“Thank you,” Simmons said again. She knew there was more that needed to be said, but she didn’t know how to start, so she didn’t say anything. The two sat without speaking, Simmons’s ears full of the sounds of their breathing and the lights and the distant voices of other agents and the crinkle of plastic in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Daisy blurted after a few minutes. Simmons flinched at the sudden noise, but kept her head forward, unable to bring herself to face her friend directly. “I- you were right. I have no idea what it was like for you there. It must have been awful, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through it.” She shifted, scooting forward until she sat in the middle of the hallway, facing Simmons. Simmons kept her eyes down, but did reach forward to take Daisy’s offered hands. “It was wrong of me to try to make you feel guilty about how the rest of us felt. You’ve been through enough without piling guilt on top. Fitz doesn’t blame you, and I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” Daisy pulled a hand back, then returned it a moment later, wet with tears. Simmons felt her own breath hitch in her chest and closed her eyes to steady it.

“Thank you,” Simmons said yet again once she felt in control again. “I’m sorry too,” she added, voice weavering despite her efforts. “I was harsh, and-”

“It’s okay,” Daisy cut her off with a wave. “I kinda deserved it. You’ve been through something more horrible than I can imagine, and I was trying to make you feel worse. I was wrong.”

Silence fell between the two of them again. Simmons wanted to say something, acknowledge her own shortcomings in the argument, thank Daisy again for apologizing, explain when she kept so much inside, something, anything, but the words caught in her throat. 

She didn’t cry. Her tears were a dry well, deep and empty just like the rest of her. Daisy said nothing back, just held Simmons’s hands and rubbed small circles on the backs with her thumbs. The food and water sat beside them both, forgotten. 

Finally, Simmons was able to choke out the words that had been haunting her since she first got back.

“I’m broken.” Her body reacted to the words on its own, curling in on itself and oh, look at that, she had some tears left to cry after all. Daisy gripped her hands tighter, and leaned forward until her forehead bumped gently against the top of Simmons’s head. 

Simmons felt Daisy let go of her hands, run them up her arms as if to let her know that she wasn’t alone until Daisy’s arms were high enough to wrap around her protectively. Simmons sobbed into Daisy’s chest, curled up as small as she could get and feeling even smaller, feeling like she was floating up and away, while her body sunk deep into the ground, her two parts separated like she had been from her friends. 

The pressure of Daisy’s arms slowly grounded her. Daisy’s soft reassurances worked their way through the storm in her mind and she let herself be held. Her tears didn’t dry, but her body stopped shaking and reconnected with her mind, and Simmons was able to pull her arms away from her chest to hold on to Daisy. 

“It’s okay,” Daisy murmured, breath warm against the back of Simmons’s neck. “It’s okay to be broken. It’s okay to hurt, and to be sad, and to be in pieces. It’s okay.”

“No,” Simmons choked out. “It’s not, there’s too many pieces, I’m too broken.” Her voice was muffled by tears and misery and their bodies pressed tight together. She could feel Daisy shake her head.

“It’s okay, Jemma. You’re allowed to be broken, you can be in pieces. You can be fixed, we can put you back together. It’ll be okay.” Simmons shook her head, breath coming in shuddering gasps, too hurt to form a proper response. “So, you’re broken, and in pieces. So what? That just means you’re like a puzzle.” The hopeful smile on Daisy’s face was heard through her next words, and Simmons clung to them, holding them like they were a lifeline because that’s what they were. “We’re both good at puzzles. We’ll solve this one together.”

“Promise?” Simmons asked, hating how childish her voice sounded, how desperate she was for reassurance, how badly she needed to hear the words. Daisy gave her another squeeze.

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on tumblr or discord to yell at/talk to me/give me prompts. Hope you enjoyed!  
> Writeblr blog: @silverssideblog  
> Discord: cloudcover#7167


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